


the short dream that changed was the clearest one

by nsofties



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Ambiguous Country Setting, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunkenness, Enemies to Lovers, Graduate School, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Lab Technician, M/M, Mental Health Issues, PhD Candidate, Science Boyfriends, Strong Language, University Lab Setting, Veterinary School, all mental health is only implied and not explicitly described, implied mental health issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 09:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18258074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsofties/pseuds/nsofties
Summary: Everything about life is uncertain - high up in the air, floating dubiously until one day whatever is holding it there is gone and it's left to fall. For Taeyong, he feels like he's been free-falling for a while, watching everyone else plummet to the ground, only to rise back up just as fast.He hopes he hits the ground soon.





	the short dream that changed was the clearest one

**Author's Note:**

> see the end authors notes for scientific jargon and a note from me.

Taeyong stares listlessly at the calculations in his lab notebook as he eyes the reactants in front of him in buckets of ice. The rows and rows of PCR tubes stare at him tauntingly, caps still connecting to make moving and labeling different replicates easier. He stifles a sigh and debates bashing his head against the hard bench surface, but begins to make the mastermix for the reactions anyway. Afterall, he had just ethanoled down the surface - it would be a waste to ruin it. 

Across from him stands the fourth year PhD candidate for whom he runs PCR reactions for - Kim Dongyoung. His mouth is set in a firm line as he works on more DNA extractions from his transformed bacteria. For a moment, Taeyong feels guilty for complaining about running PCRs, aware that Dongyoung’s most recent transformation had failed miserably, all forty petri plates blank after overnight incubation.

Dongyoung’s undergraduate, Lee Jeno, scurries around the communal lab space, narrowly missing members of other labs as he returns with a rack of culture tubes and a bright smile. “Here’s your cultures, Dongyoung,” Jeno says, shifting his weight from one foot to another. The movement reminds Taeyong to stop locking his knees as he stands at the bench. You would think he would know better by now.

“Thank you, Jeno. You can just place them to the side.”

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“I’ve already asked too much of you by asking you to plate all my transformations. If you’ve finished that, you’re free to go for today.”

Jeno nods his head no with energy that Taeyong wishes he still had. “No, it’s really fine! It’s not like I really have anything to do on Friday nights, you know? My roommate - Jaemin, if you remember me talking about him - and boyfriend both have practice later on Fridays.” He leans against the lab bench, sighing dramatically. “I feel like Jaemin spends more time with my boyfriend than  _ I _ do. But, they don’t have a game tomorrow, so Donghyuck and I are going to that really nice ramen place in town! It’ll be our first date night in  _ ages _ .”

Dongyoung, despite being engrossed in his DNA extraction, listens to Jeno’s ramblings attentively, gentle smile on his face. It’s a nice smile, Taeyong thinks, before shaking his head. Instead, he goes back to his PCR, Inverting the mastermix as he hangs his micropipette back up on the rack. After several inversions and a gentle vortex for good measure, he jabs the eppendorf tube back into the ice with more force than necessary. The sharp crackling of the ice from the motion gains Dongyoung’s attention as he raises an eyebrow.

Taeyong averts his gaze and returns to setting up the PCR reactions, making sure his negative and positive controls are labeled as he prefers - negative control with a red star and positive control with a green star. He feels thankful that rows of tubes are replicates as he reaches for the multichannel micropipette. The action of setting up the tubes is a mix of muscle memory and attentiveness to the labels on the tubes.

Flicking the tubes to mix the contents, he sticks them into the microcentrifuge for the PCR tubes, the subtle whirring proving background noise to Taeyong’s thoughts. Jeno is still chattering animatedly across from him. If Taeyong focuses a little harder, he can hear Yuta, a post-doc in a neighboring lab, walking Lee Minhyung, the new first year PhD student, through plant DNA extraction.

He jabs more aggressively than necessary onto the screen of the thermocycler as he props the bucket of ice holding his PCR tubes against his hip. He scribbles into his lab notebook the positions of the tubes according to his key before sealing the cover shut and double checking it’s the correct cycle before pressing start. He cleans up his mess quickly, making sure the Taq polymerase is stored properly before putting everything else away.

Lab notebook tucked in his drawer, Taeyong douses the bench with more 70% ethanol than necessary, swiping at it with his gloved hand several times until his entire bench area is sterilized. When he looks up, Dongyoung and Jeno are staring at him with curious gazes. Impatient for a reply, Dongyoung clears his throat and raises an eyebrow.

“Using a Kimwipe to spread the ethanol isn’t any better than me using my glove,” mutters Taeyong under his breath.

He carefully pinches his left glove, pulling the glove off in one swift movement. It’s then bundled in his right hand before he hooks his left thumb into the space between the glove and his bare wrist. Taeyong stomps on the pedal of the biohazard waste can before quickly pushing his left hand forward. The force, as he relaxes his right hand, inverts his glove and sends them, now bundled together, flying into the biohazard bag. The cover slams shut with a resolute sound that catches Minhyung’s attention as his head whips to face Taeyong.

“If you’re still here when the PCR finishes - which I  _ really _ hope you aren’t,” says Taeyong, raising his voice so he can be heard over the sound of the faucet as he washes his hands, “you can put them into the 4°C. Otherwise, I’ll take them out when I arrive tomorrow morning and do the RFLP analysis. I placed the images I took of today’s RFLP on your desk earlier. I didn’t want to bother you since you looked pretty bummed from the results of your transformation. I’ll be in tomorrow at nine.”

“Do you need help with anything, Taeyong?” Jeno’s eyes are bright as he leans on the bench. “Donghyuck and Jaemin have morning practice tomorrow, so I’ll be up if you need me!”

“I should be good, Jeno. Thank you, though. Enjoy your morning and take tomorrow slow.” Taeyong offers a smile before drying his hands with paper towels. “Well, if that’s all, I should get going. I want to catch the bus to the grocery store.”

“I always offer to drive you. It’s easier than waiting around for the bus, you know.”

“If I really did mind, I could always ask Youngho,” replies Taeyong, the image of his roommate flashing through his mind. The lumbering vet student always looked on the verge of passing out when he came home - it didn’t seem fair to ask him for rides to places. Dongyoung’s expression becomes closed off at the mention of Youngho and Taeyong resists the urge to rolls his eyes. It wasn’t like Youngho had knocked over his cultures on purpose. The man was clumsy when it came to microbiology - something about it really set him off.

“I’m almost done, you know. It won’t be long. I can drive you.”

Taeyong waves a hand as he strolls to his desk at the end of the bench. He haphazardly shoves his things into his bag before flinging it over his shoulder. “It’s really fine. I’ll see you both tomorrow!” He waves over his shoulder before opening the door with his elbow. Taeyong shudders at the number of people he’s seen touch the handle before washing their hands after lab work.

 

 

 

 

When Taeyong enters his apartment, reusable bags of groceries in his hands, he’s surprised to see Youngho already there, spread out on the kitchen table. He recognizes the scene - studying only happens at the kitchen table when something is going poorly. Shuffling by as softly as possible, he watches as his roommate grabs at his hair, staring at the diagrams and notes in a familiar messy scrawl.

“What’s it this time?”

“I was approved for an exotics rotation, but I remembered that it was my weakest course. I’m trying to review as much as possible before I meet with them tomorrow.”

“You’ll do fine, Youngho. I know you say it was your weakest course, but I distinctly remember you still being in the top five percent of that class.” Taeyong leans over Youngho’s shoulders, peering at the diagrams and pursing his lips. They were childhood best friends and, as a result, he knew how hard Youngho was on himself when it came to his veterinary program. Nothing came easily, despite what his cohort believed. “I’ll start on some silken tofu stew, okay? And you’ll take a break when I’m done.”

“I  _ can’t _ -”

“Youngho. You  _ must _ take a break. You’ll walk into a door or something again if you don’t get enough rest. The purpose of these rotations is for you to get real experience with the animals. We both know that the real thing is  _ nothing _ like the books. Stop stressing so much.”

“Easier said than done,” mutters Youngho under his breath, uncapping his highlighter. “Oh, by the way.”

“Yeah?” asks Taeyong, putting the juice he bought in the fridge.

“That private school called you again asking if you wanted to teach there.”

“Their salary is even worse than my current one,” replies Taeyong with a snort. “I should just go back for my PhD at this point.”

“You could, you know. Start looking at programs nearby now.”

“Only nearby?”

“I mean, unless you wanna move out.”

Taeyong is slicing garlic as he shudders at the thought of moving again. “You’re right. I mean, there are plenty of universities in the area. The buses go to all of them - I would be fine.”

“Your Master of Genetics degree will probably help a lot. And your current tech position.” 

Taeyong cooking slowly pulls Youngho out of his funk, the sound of all his pens being capped bringing a smile to his face. “I’ll have to start looking at the programs, then. And labs.”

“Would you do a rotation in the lab you currently work for if you were accepted?”

“I mean, if they’d let me.” Taeyong pulls the pot out from under the counter, turning on the burner. He leans against the counter as he waits for the pot to heat up, eyeballing the sesame oil before tossing in the beef, garlic, and red pepper powder. “Oh, fuck. Can you grab the salted shrimp out of the fridge?”

“... You had this planned, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. I tend to plan ahead when it’s my night to cook instead of ordering pizza  _ again _ ,” bites back Taeyong. Youngho, in return, rolls his eyes, listening to the ingredients sizzling in the pot. He places the shrimp on the counter, quickly retracting his hand when Taeyong aggressively cuts open the anchovy stock he made last week. The edges of the plastic are jagged and Youngo pales at the sight.

“You just need to open it, not maul it.”

Taeyong grumbles something under his breath as he adjusts the heat, peering at the stew with a critical eye before it comes to a simmer. He holds out a hand and Johnny hands him the tofu. His movements are aggressive as he tosses the tofu into the pot, jabbing at it with his wooden ladle. Once it’s broken to his satisfaction, he adds the shrimp. Youngho is, as always, amazed at Taeyong’s cooking skills. His brain skips over details as he watches Taeyong hard at work, clattering noisily around the kitchen.

“What’s got you so worked up today? Is it Dongyo -”

“We don’t say that name in this household,” bites out Taeyong, head whipping around so fast Youngho is afraid his neck will break. “Anyways. Continue.”

“... Right. Is it because of  _ you know who _ again? What happened this time?”

When Taeyong turns around this time, he’s brandishing the ladle, waving it around with giant sweeps of his arm. “Where the  _ fuck _ does he get off being so  _ hot _ ?!”

“Here we go,” mutters Youngho under his breath, beginning to pack up his things. He grimaces as a splash of stew from the spoon lands on his notes from the exotics section of the neuropathology course. Taeyong is raving now, currently on a tirade about how unfair it is that Dongyoung always treats Jeno to lunch or breakfast but  _ never _ him.

“I mean, the  _ audacity _ of him, right? I’ve been working with him for  _ three years _ now!  _ Three _ ! And he doesn’t even  _ offer _ for me to come along!”

“Well, you also tend to reject his offers for rides places or to order reagents. Maybe he just thinks you’d say no.”

“I  _ would _ say no! But, that’s beside the point!”

“You’re hopeless,” groans Youngho. “And stop waving that thing around. It’s not some magic wand that’ll fix your unrequited crush or whatever.”

Taeyong splutters, ladle flying out of his hand as he stares at his roommate with wide eyes. It would be endearing if Youngho wasn’t battling a headache. “I do  _ not _ have a crush on  _ him _ ! How could you  _ say _ that, Youngho? He’s absolutely  _ insufferable _ !”

“Right. That’s why the last time we went out to a bar with Yoonoh, you got drunk and whined about how pretty he is.” Youngho’s voice is unamused as he rummages through drawers for utensils. “ _ You _ are in sufferable. Use a different ladle, please.”

Pulling out a new ladle, Taeyong pouts in silence, the only sound coming from the stew and Youngho setting the table. When finished, he places the pot onto a potholder and sits across from his roommate at the small kitchen table. They eat in silence for several minutes before it becomes suffocating to Taeyong.

“How  _ is  _ Yoonoh, by the way? You two still pretending you don’t have feelings for one another?”

“I don’t wanna hear it from  _ you _ , Mr. I Hate Dongyoung.”

“We don’t say that name in this household!”

Youngho rolls his eyes as he sticks his spoon into the stew. “Right.”

 

 

 

 

Taeyong figuratively - and borderline  _ literally _ \- drags his body into lab at seven in the morning the next day. While reviewing his schedule for the next day after dinner, he had realized, with great pain, that in order to make it out to the bars with Ten, he would have to start everything by eight in the morning at the  _ latest _ .

Stifling a yawn, he tosses his backpack onto his desk before grabbing the bucket to fill it with ice. For a few minutes, he stands in front of the ice machine in silence, revelling in the quiet. He has a  _ long _ day ahead of him, but everything is routine and Saturdays are always pleasantly quiet, undergraduates and techs and post-docs and graduate students coming in and out into the space to collect data or run replicates.

It feels as if it’s already been half a day when Dongyoung finally shows up, kicking his backpack under his desk before grabbing his lab notebook. Taeyong is furiously typing on his laptop, having just started the RFLP in the thermocycler. He could leave, he realizes, but he doesn’t see the point of going back to his apartment, just to sleep. It would disrupt his sleep cycle, he reasons. Plus, there are plenty of other things to get done.

“Oh? Taeyong? How long have you been here?”

Blinking slowly, Taeyong turns his head to peer owlishy at Dongyoung. The PhD candidate looks as well rested as one  _ could _ be in his position and Taeyong pushes the bitterness that rises in his throat back down. “Since seven.”

“... Seven?! Why  _ seven _ ?”

“Well, I had to run a gel to confirm the PCR product, and once I did that, I set up the RFLP. I just put it in the thermocycler. I figured I would work on reorganizing the lab space while it’s running. Everything has gotten out of order -  _ again _ .”

“Are you talking about reagents and everything? Because if so, that’s my fault. Sorry about that.” Taeyong purses his lips and watches as Dongyoung sprays down his bench with ethanol before turning on the flame. After several minutes of silence, the graduate student looks up to see that Taeyong is gone, the only indication of his presence the aggressive sound of containers being picked up and slammed down.

Taeyong drags the cart into the room behind him, clearing out his lab’s reagents shelf by shelf, tearing down the labels he made. His wireless headphones block out the surrounding ambient sound and allow him to focus on the task at hand. At one point, Yuta walks into the room to grab a large bottle of TAE buffer. They make eye contact and Taeyong lifts his chin in a brief greeting before returning to the shelves in front of him.

There’s something therapeutic about starting from the bottom up again. He realizes he has hours before the RFLP analysis is done, and he slowly releases whatever tension has built up in his body, his actions becoming less and less violent as time passes. His sorting is methodical, and, eventually, he begins to hum along to the song that Youngho was listening to while getting ready in the morning.

An hour later, he emerges, pushing the cart back against the wall. He carefully removes his gloves and places them on his bench space before washing his hands. When he looks up, Dongyoung is staring at him with an unreadable expression before jutting his head towards his desk where, upon further examination, Youngho sits, cheek pressed up against the cool surface, eyes closed.

“Youngho?! Aren’t you supposed to be at your rotation?” The man in question cracks open one eye and nods. “What happened? Were you told the wrong place? Do I need to have a word with your instructor for you  _ again _ ?”

“No! Do  _ not _ do that. God, I thought I was going to get kicked out because of you,” bites out Youngho, shooting up in the chair. “It was a short day since the clinician I’m working with was out sick today. I just met the other clinicians and techs in the office before I was sent home. I didn’t want to just, you know, rot in our apartment or whatever, so I decided to stop by.”

“Who let you in?” asks Taeyong, ruffling his hair. Youngho closes his eyes in contentment. “Youngho.”

“Oh. Jeno did.”

“Hi, Taeyong,” says the aforementioned undergraduate, waving excitedly. “Sorry - I recognized him from that one time he dropped you off! I figured it was okay to let him in.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks for that.” Taeyong says absently, before turning his attention back to Youngho, slouched over again in the chair. “There are couches outside if you want to take a nap or something. You were up pretty late.”

“Or he can go home and sleep in his own bed like a normal person,” bites out Doyoung.

“While the delivery could use some work, I agree with Dongyoung. Maybe you should go home and sleep, Youngho.” Taeyong takes a moment to push his bangs back and press the back of his hand to his forehead, then either cheek. “You have a bit of a fever, I think. Go out and lay on the couches. I’ll drive us home when I’m done.” Youngho grumbles for a few minutes until Taeyong pinches his ear. He eventually drags his body out of the lab space and into the lounge area, where Taeyong watches him drape his body across the couches through a window.

“Is he gonna be okay?” asks Jeno, eyes wide.

“He’ll be fine,” answers Taeyong, toeing the step stool towards his bench area. He kneels on the counter and he shifts around everything on his shelves, moving empty containers to the bench and bringing down more sealed media, tips, and supplies. Jeno peers up at him from beside the stool, taking the empty containers and shuffling away to restock them and put them in the autoclave bins.

“I’ll do a wrapped cycle, then,” says Jeno, plopping it on a cart, making sure to grab the autoclave gloves before he rolls away. It leaves Taeyong and Dongyoung as the only two in the lab space, Yuta somewhere in one of the back rooms running a gel. The only indication of his presence is his laptop on his bench space and the occasional clatter of a bottle being moved, muffled by distance.

“Sorry about Youngho,” says Taeyong, huffing as he hops off the counter. “I know you don’t like people in our lab space who don’t work here.”

“It’s fine.” Dongyoung’s voice is clipped and Taeyong resists the urge to roll his eyes as he tucks the step stool under the bench again. “It isn’t the first time your boyfriend has interrupted our lab’s workflow.”

Taeyong’s neck slowly rotates to allow him to peer at Dongyoung critically. “Excuse me?”

“Listen, I’m glad you’re in a healthy relationship and all -”

“You think I’m dating  _ Youngho _ ?”

“Of  _ course _ you two are dating. It’s obvious.” Dongyoung sniffs haughtily before returning to his cultures, dividing them into their appropriate tubes for DNA extraction.

The laugh starts low in his gut, working its way up his chest and out as a snort before he’s having trouble breathing, hand slapping the bench. Dongyoung stares at him as if he’s lost his mind and Taeyong thinks to himself that, yes, he probably has. “That’s hilarious. Hate to break it to you, but Youngho and I aren’t dating. That’s funny, though. He’s actually my childhood best friend - we go  _ way _ back. Twenty-three years, actually.” He’s busy tidying up more shelving as he talks, shaking his head.

It’s not that the idea of dating Youngho hadn’t crossed his mind before, and vice versa. It would be convenient to date your best friend - someone who already knows your family and entire life story. But, Youngho has Yoonoh, even if he won’t admit it, and the idea of dating him makes an uncomfortable chill run up Taeyong’s spine. Youngho knows everything.  _ Everything. _

_ Ridiculous _ , he thinks to himself.  _ Absolutely ridiculous _ .

 

 

 

 

Ten watches, amused, eyebrow raised, as Taeyong slams his pint on the table surface. The bar is overcrowded with young professionals and graduate students drinking away whatever hellish things went wrong during the week. They’re no exception to the trend - Ten takes a longer dredge of scotch from his glass than one  _ should _ if trying to savor the alcohol. But, getting your PhD in Linguistics - in anything, really - isn’t a walk in the park.

“Can you  _ believe _ that? He thought Youngho and I were  _ dating _ !” Taeyong’s free hand waves around, disgust cutting easily through his steadily slurring speech. “The  _ audacity _ .”

“You two  _ do _ act awfully domestic, you know. Even Yoonoh thought you were dating at first. That’s the whole reason it’s taking them so long to get their act together.” Taeyong’s face scrunches up and Ten replies to it with a casual shrug. “Even Kun thinks you two have  _ something _ going on, you know. He doesn’t even really interact with Youngho.”

“How  _ is _ Kun, by the way? Enjoying his Fullbright?”

“Yeah.” Ten takes a long drink before clearing his throat. “He’s been offered a full-time position when it ends.”

“Oh!” Taeyong sits up straighter in his seat before he makes the connection, slouching over. “ _ Oh _ . What’re you two gonna do, then?”

“You know neither of us can do long-distance. So, it’s not a break anymore. We’re just. Done.”

“Ten, I’m so sorry. I know how much Kun means to you…”

“It’s whatever.” Ten waves a flippant hand, though the slight shake to his action betrays his bravado. “That’s the harsh reality of relationships. You break up or get married. I’ll be fine.”

Taeyong squints at his friend critically before deciding to give up for the time being - he could always grill him more later. Instead, he leans back in his seat, choosing instead to chug down the rest of his Pabst Blue Ribbon. Ten had scrunched up his nose at Taeyong’s choice but said nothing - the both of them knew that Taeyong risked a night of vomiting if he drank anything stronger than beer.

“We really need to get Youngho out more. What’s he doing tonight?”

“Sleeping. He needs it more than he needs alcohol. I told you he got the exotics rotation, right?” Taeyong spins around his empty pint, looking thoughtful. “I worry about him. There’s this constant need for him to sacrifice  _ everything _ for his academics. And I get it - I’ve been there, I plan on going back, but…”

“It’s different for different programs, ‘Yong,” reasons Ten carefully. “For programs like mine and Youngho’s, your GPA determines your status in the program. You can get kicked out if it drops. I know you’re concerned. Just keep an eye on him like you’ve been doing, step in when it looks like it’s getting to be too much like always. Is he still going to that psychiatrist…?”

“Yeah. It’s helped a lot. But…,” Taeyong makes a flippant hand waving motion, gaze troubled. “I mean, you know. It’s not an overnight process. But, I think, because he had suppressed everything so much and was used to pretending that everything was okay… He thought everything would be as quick of a fix as shoving it to the back burner until it catches fire.”

“Do you still go with him to appointments?”

“Yeah. Me or Yoonoh. Whoever’s free.”

“What about you? How do you like your new therapist?”

“She’s really nice. I’m still sad that Boah moved, but I’m still in contact with her, anyways. Plus, Taeyeon has been really great so far. Recommended by Boah herself.”

Ten is nodding sagely, sipping at his scotch when his eyes suddenly widen and he snorts. Alcohol sprays his face as he coughs loudly, beating his chest. Taeyong hands him a napkin which he uses to wipe at his face before choking out, “ _ Dongyoung _ .”

Whipping his head around, Taeyong grips the back of the booth to ground himself as the world spins before squinting and following Ten’s line of sight. Lo-and-behold, Kim Dongyoung leans against the bar, gaze trailing over the variety of alcohol lining the wall of the bar before becoming bored while waiting for the bartender.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” he hisses under his breath, stiffening as Dongyoung and he make eye contact. They look away at the same time, Taeyong whirling around again to face Ten, who looks deeply amused with the situation.

“I can fix that. I’ll be right back.”

Before Taeyong can process what has been said, Ten is gone, reappearing shortly with two  _ weizen _ glasses. “Hofbräu. Drink up, bud. On me.”

Taeyong thinks of how the last time he drank Hofbräu was when they had all gone to some close-by knock-off Oktoberfest celebration and gotten blackout drunk. He remembers approximately  _ twenty minutes _ of an entire weekend. Shrugging, he downs one as Ten cheers, gaining the attention of close-by patrons who laugh and join in on the chanting.

He faintly registers a new person sliding into the booth beside him who Ten gapes at. Taeyong is too focused on getting down the second  _ weizen _ of beer, slamming it down on the table to the cheers of other patrons. Before he can look at the person sitting beside him, Ten waves his hand in front of his face, gathering his attention.

“You good?” asks Ten, grinning ear-to-ear. “That was a lot of alcohol for you. Especially since, you know, you already had two before this.”

“I’m  _ great _ ,” groans Taeyong, eyelids feeling heavy. He’s always hated the way that alcohol hits him fast and furious. It was hard keeping up with Youngho throughout university, who had the alcohol tolerance of a giant. (It’s fitting, though, in all honesty, with the way that Youngho towers over everyone.) He drops his head down onto his arms and groans loudly, again. 

“...  _ Right _ . Should we get you home, then?”

“ _ No _ . I’m  _ comfy _ ,” mutters Taeyong into his arms. Whoever sits next to him shifts in the seat and talks in a voice that he can’t hear over the noise of the bar. A hand rests on his back and rubs comforting circles that threaten to lull Taeyong to sleep.

“Taeyong, sweetie. We’re gonna get you home.”

“ _ No _ ,” he whines.

“Yeah, just drag him out of the seat. He does this every single fucking time.”

 

 

 

 

When Taeyong wakes up the next morning, he finds himself tucked into bed, sunshine blasting into the room through the blinds. He groans and Youngho, in response, walks out of the room before returning with a large plush animal that he slams onto his face.

“What the  _ fuck _ Youngho?”

“Good morning to you, too, you fucking  _ gremlin _ . Get up. It’s eight. You have to go in today, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but… how about five more minutes…,” he grumbles, shoving his head under his pillow.

“I would normally let you, but Kim Dongyoung is kind of sitting at our kitchen table waiting for you, so I can’t.”

“He’s  _ what _ ?!” shouts Taeyong, sitting up in bed. His hair sticks out in every direction and he momentarily feels sick before the shock overcomes it and he jumps out of bed, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. “What the  _ fuck _ do you mean he’s sitting at our kitchen table?”

“Get your grubby little hands off me you  _ demon _ .” Youngho pries Taeyong’s hands off his shirt, smoothing it down and frowning at the wrinkles left in his freshly steamed shirt. “Yeah, he’s here to drive you both to work so I don’t have to. Pretty nice of him, I think.” Taeyong stands still, jaw hanging as he looks at Youngho who mockingly mimics his expression before rolling his eyes.

Youngho mutters something under his breath, but Taeyong only catches the words  _ last night _ and  _ fucking mess _ , before he’s out the door, shutting it behind him. His muffled conversation with Dongyoung travels to Taeyong as he stands in front of his door, repeatedly banging his head against it.

“You’re gonna lose all your brain cells if you keep that shit up,” shouts Youngho from the kitchen.

“Fucking  _ good _ !” shouts back Taeyong.

He grumbles under his breath about how  _ positively annoying _ Dongyoung is without stopping as he rummages through his shelves for a shirt and jeans. His only pause comes to check the weather - a pleasant 18°C. He crosses the hallway to the bathroom without sparing a glance into the kitchen, choosing instead to methodically wash his face and brush his teeth. When he’s finished, he goes into Youngho’s room, rummaging around until he finds the hat he was looking for.

“Can I borrow this?” he asks, placing it on his head.

“... I don’t think I can say no at this point,” replies Youngho, leaning back in the chair to look at Taeyong. “Do you want me to just get you your own? We can match.”

“I can get one for myself. Where’d you buy it?”

“Chicago.”

“... Oh. Yeah, can you ask your mom to get me one when she has a chance?”

“Of course. Oh, also, before you go. Your sister sent us an invitation to her baby shower the other day - I forgot to tell you. It’s addressed to you, but she wrote on it that I’m already down as your plus one.”

“Can’t you just get your own invitation?” asks Taeyong. He peers at the off-white invitation stuck to the fridge with an old magnet set Youngho had won during bingo in university. The formal writing gives him a headache and he squints to decipher it. “You’re basically the third child.”

“Second. I’m older.”

“Arbitrary technicality.” Taeyong waves a hand, still ignoring the metaphorical elephant in the room as he grabs his water bottle from the fridge. “Did you RSVP?”

“Yeah. Already asked for the weekend off.”

“Good, good.” Taeyong pauses, taking a drink of water before humming thoughtfully. “Do you have any free time coming up? We should look at the baby registry.”

Youngho hums thoughtfully, tapping his foot on the ground before shrugging. “I mean, we can order pizza for dinner tonight and just do it then. Who’ll pay?”

“I will. You can send me half whatever we spend when you get a chance.” Digging back into the fridge, Taeyong blindly slaps his hand around as he continues to talk. “Anyways, we already promised to go help her set up the nursery room, right? That can be part of our gift to her.”

“That feels like a cop-out, though.”

“You did the same thing for her wedding - you played the piano as your gift.” Finding a yogurt, Taeyong opens it and grabs a spoon, choosing to lean against the fridge. After taking a bite, he waves the spoon in Youngho’s direction with a frown. “We’re painting the fucking nursery  _ and _ building all the furniture for them. I think that a small gift would be a nice addition to that big of a gift. Plus, we’ll be buying birthday presents for this brat until we die.”

“I didn’t  _ ask _ to be a god-parent.”

“No, but you  _ are _ one, so suck it the  _ fuck _ up. We both got roped into this.” Taeyong is frowning, shaking his head exasperatedly. “And the thing is, we’re both gonna love this kid more than my own parents are going to. It’s  _ bullshit _ .”

“It’s true. You know, you can  _ always _ go an be an elementary school teacher, you know. You’d be pretty fucking good at it. Kids  _ love _ you.” Youngho laughs at the face that Taeyong pulls as he eats his yogurt. He tosses his shoulders up and down in a lazy shrug before standing. “I should get going soon. I’m headed into the clinic today.”

“Oh? Is the clinician you’re working with not sick anymore?”

“No, but they  _ did _ ask another clinician to take me for the day. So, I should head in.” He towers over Taeyong as he smacks him on the cheeks gently a few times. “Don’t give Mr. Kim here any trouble, right? Be back relatively early for dinner so we can get buying the present over with and I can fill you in on my day.”

“You would fill me in on your day, regardless of the time. Like that one time at four in the  _ fucking morning _ when you -”

“That’s true. Have fun at work, Tae.”

“Uh-huh. Go. You have work. Don’t want you to be late for your first official day of your dream rotation.” Taeyong is pushing Youngho out the door, handing him a bagged lunch from the fridge he prepared for him yesterday. “Don’t give your clinician any trouble!” shouts Taeyong down the hall as he walks away. All he receives in return is a middle finger before the elevator door closes. He slowly closes the door, knowing exactly what - or  _ who _ , rather - waits for him.

“So if you’re not dating… are you two  _ married _ ?”

“Who?” asks Taeyong, pulling on his backpack.

“You and Youngho.”

“Oh. No,” he replies easily with a shrug. “Ten tells us we act domestic or whatever, but that’s just because we’ve known each other for twenty-some-odd years, and we’ve been living together for almost eight. You start to act weirdly domestic with anyone after that long.”

“Did you two  _ ever _ date?”

“What the fuck is going on? Is it  _ grill Taeyong on his history with Youngho _ hour or something? No, we’ve never dated.” Taeyong watches as Dongyoung purses his lips. His mouth begins to open again and in response he crosses his arms. “ _ No _ , I do not want to date him, even if it’s convenient. Also, Youngho is dating Yoonoh - even if he won’t admit it.”

Dongyoung sits there, lips pressed together tightly. “... Alright.”

Taeyong stares at him in disbelief before he shakes his head. “Let’s just go to work.  _ Please _ .”

 

 

 

 

The agarose gel solidifies in a back room as Taeyong putters around the lab space. Sundays are always the quietest. Most people tend to take the day off - coming in to start overnight cultures if  _ anything _ . Taeyong likes Sundays the most. Doyoung is working on bacterial transformations at his bench as Jeno chatters excitedly to him, Doyoung interjecting with a request every now and then. Yuta, the only other individual in lab as often as the three of them, waves Taeyong over as he pauses from typing something.

“What’s up?” asks Taeyong, dropping his body into the chair next to him. He spins around as he waits for Yuta to respond.

“You just looked bored waiting for your gel to dry. I figured we could chat for a little bit. My gel is still running.” Yuta leans on his hand and examines Taeyong carefully as he stares up at the ceiling while spinning in circles. “Are you single?”

“Are  _ you _ single?” shoots back Taeyong with a frown. The world continues to spin as he stomps his feet on the ground.

“I’m the one asking here.”

“Yeah, but  _ why _ are you the one asking?”

“I’m just curious. I saw you at the bar last night with a guy I see on campus sometimes - Ten.” Yuta shrugs nonchalantly, but Taeyong can read right through it - there’s something tense about the way he moves.

“It wasn’t a date.”

“That’s all I wanted to know.”

“Why? Do you want to ask Ten on a date?”

“... I’m dating someone, you know.”

“Polyamory is a thing,” replies Taeyong with a shrug. “I don’t know.” He pauses, before squinting at Yuta. “Then  _ why _ were you curious?”

“You’re a fucking  _ idiot _ . Do you know that?” groans Yuta, holding his head in his hands.

Taeyong cackles as he stands back up, patting Yuta comfortingly on the back. “I do, for a matter of fact. My gel should be hardened now. Thanks for the chat, Nakamoto.”

“Wait, actually, I was wondering something else,” says Yuta, grabbing him by the wrist. “Have you done Western Blots before?”

“Yeah, I’ve done them often enough. Why?”

“I honestly haven’t done one in  _ years _ , and Minhyung’s project needs some Western blots done for verification. I was wondering if you could walk him through them some time?”

“Oh. Of course,” says Taeyong with a smile. “I’d be more than happy to walk him through them.”

“He’s definitely done them plenty of times before - my bigger concern is him knowing where the reagents are and everything.”

“Don’t you worry about it, Yuta. I’ve got it. I should go run my gel, though.”

“Thanks, Lee. I owe you.”

“No,” says Taeyong, waving his hand. “It’ll be nice to do something that’s  _ not _ a PCR or RFLP, you know? It’s a mutual exchange.”

Sliding into the back room, he puts his gloves back on in order to pipet his RFLP products into the wells of the agarose gel. His samples sit on ice as he pipets the products, now colored with TriTrack DNA Loading Dye. He peers at his lab notebook, making sure he’s putting the ladders where they need to be, before moving onto the actual experimental samples. He leans on the counter, steadying his hand by cradling his wrist in his free hand. It goes quickly and, as he starts the gel and collects his things, he thinks back to the first few times he ran a gel.

Stabbing through the well wasn’t one of his proudest moments. Neither was missing the well and watching the sample diffuse into the buffer. The ice crashes into the sink once the samples are away in the fridge and Taeyong watches with grim satisfaction as warm water melts it away. Flipping the bucket upside down, he perches it on the edge of the sink to dry as he slowly walks back to his lab’s bench to take off his gloves and wash his hands.

Sinking into the unfairly comfortable cushion of his chair, he takes a moment to scroll through his phone. There are several missed calls and messages from Ten, emails from companies and the school, and a missed call from his sister. Clearing the notifications for the missed calls, he decides to reply to whatever Ten felt was urgent thirty minutes ago.

 

**Ten**

TAEYONG [11:00]

TAEYONG [11:00]

TAEYONG [11:01]

TAEYONG [11:01]

TAEYONG [11:01]

TAEYONG [11:02]

TAE YONG [11:02]

LEE TAE YONG [11:02]

 

**Taeyong**

[11:30] GOD WHAT DO YOU WANT

 

**Ten**

I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING BEFORE YOU GO TO WORK [11:31]

 

Taeyong is in the middle of replying to Ten’s message to let him know it’s a  _ little _ too late for that when his phone drops out of his hand, screen shattering on the floor. It grabs the attention of everyone in the lab. His body flips forwards with a ragdoll and he lets his forehead slam against the surface of his desk. It isn’t hard enough to knock him out, but  _ fuck _ he wishes it was.

 

**Ten**

YOU TOLD KIM DONGYOUNG, AND I MOTHERFUCKING QUOTE, “YOU ARE THE HOTTEST MAN ALIVE. I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME,” TO HIS FACE LAST NIGHT WHEN HE HELPED ME TAKE YOU HOME. YOU ALSO TOLD HIM YOU DIDN’T CARE THAT HE HAS NO ASS BECAUSE YOU DON’T EITHER. YOU THEN TOLD HIM THAT YOU WANTED HIM TO FUCK YOU ON YOUR LAB BENCH. WHICH IS LIKE, KINDA HOT, BUT ALSO INCREDIBLY UNSANITARY. [11:32]

 

**Taeyong**

[12:15] I want to die.

 

 

 

 

Taeyong, for the life of him, cannot meet Dongyoung’s eyes after reading that message. He stumbles through imaging the gel before rigidly packing up his things and leaving the lab without saying a word. Not even a goodbye, as any words Jeno or Dongyoung might’ve said to him while he left were immediately filed away as Taeyong’s brain dealt with something  _ much _ more urgent.

He had confessed what he was suppressing for  _ years _ now. That, one, he thinks the graduate student he’s working with is  _ hot _ . And, two, he would love for his coworker to fuck him until he can’t walk. The two aren’t mutually exclusive and Taeyong is more than aware of that. He’s  _ too _ aware of it. He’s also painfully aware that he not only wants Dongyoung to  _ fuck _ him - he wants Dongyoung to go out on nice dates with him. Maybe to the Italian restaurant on the other side of the city that Youngho occasionally takes Yoonoh to, or the mom-and-pop restaurant he would frequent in university.

When Youngho finally gets home from his rotation, Taeyong is face-down on their couch, feet propped up on an arm. Occasionally a muffled scream drifts over from the couch to the kitchen where he calls in the order for their pizza. It takes twenty minutes for the pizza to arrive, at which point Youngho reaches over the back of the couch and swiftly pushes Taeyong to the ground. 

They’re sitting at the kitchen table, Youngho’s laptop in between them when Taeyong slams his hands on the table and looks at his roommate. Youngho had rejected his and Ten’s offer to go out for drinks in favor of catching up on sleep, though the both of them know that catching up on sleep is a myth. All that Taeyong can process, however, is that Youngho staying home to sleep means he was  _ here _ and  _ witnessed _ Taeyong’s drunken return home. Which means he probably  _ knows _ \-  _ knew _ when he opened the door for Dongyoung and offered him a fucking cup of coffee and seat at their kitchen table to  _ wake him up _ .

“Did you  _ know _ ?” he hisses, eyes narrowed.

“Know what” asks Youngho apathetically, He continues scrolling through the registry before he stops, clicking on a link. “How about this diaper bag?”

“That’s fine, whatever. But, did you  _ know _ ?”

“I’m putting in your debit card information, then.”

Taeyong should be worried that his best friend has his card information memorized, but he pushes it to the backburner as he turns his entire body to face Youngho. “Did you  _ know _ . Did you  _ know _ that I happened to tell my coworker that I want him to _ fuck me _ , Youngho? Did you?”

“Oh, that?” he asks absently, grabbing for Taeyong’s phone as it dings with the confirmation email. “Yeah. According to Ten, you said it as you were exiting the restaurant.  _ However _ , you also said it to him as he helped you get into bed. And then something like, ‘ _ There’s room for two here, you know _ .’ And then, ‘ _ Please fuck me soon _ .’ All before you passed the fuck out. Nice guy. He even turned you on your side before leaving.”

“Fuck, and I  _ cannot _ emphasize this enough, me.”

“I really don’t think it’s that big of a deal, you know. You’re acting like you didn’t know that you want him to fuck you senseless.” Taeyong chokes on his soda at Youngho’s statement. Sure, he knew. He just never thought he would say it  _ out loud  _ to _ him _ . “I mean, hey, maybe it’s a  _ good thing _ . You know, he asked me if we were dating before he left?”

“.... What did you say?”

“That, no, you and I are not and have never dated, but he should take you out to dinner sometime.”

“Then  _ why _ did he ask me if we were married this morning?!”

“Gross. We really act that domestic?”

“Apparently. Ten said  _ Kun _ even thinks that. Kun barely knows you, Youngho.”

“Again, gross. Can you two fuck and move in together so we can stop this?”

“That is  _ not _ how this is going to work. Plus, he’s defending at the end of this semester. I’m sure he’ll get some post-doc position far away and never look back.” Taeyong leans his head on his hand and shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“... Okay, but, like, you should still fuck.”

“Youngho!”

“I’m just  _ saying _ , Taeyong. It’s been -  _ what _ \- three years since you slept with anyone? I’m not saying people need to have sex to be happy, but I’m saying that I  _ know _ you as your best friend, and I  _ know _ you need a good fuck.”

“I don’t think he’ll fuck me after  _ that _ shitshow.”

“No, I think he’ll still fuck you. And maybe even take you out on a date. Order of the two is arbitrary.” Youngho shrugs before closing his laptop. “I’m just  _ saying _ Taeyong, you don’t know what’ll happen. Why not shoot your shot?”

“Oh, I’ll shoot my shot.”

“Good -”

“Right through my  _ fucking foot  _ -”

“Taeyong,  _ no _ -”

 

 

 

 

Taeyong is concerned when he walks into lab on Monday morning and sees a familiar head of black hair peeking out from under a blanket on the couches. It’s early - seven in the morning - and he’s usually the only one there. The backpack and open laptop on the small table in front of the couch makes him sigh as he gently shakes the sleeping mass.

“Jeno. You can’t sleep here. Go home.” The undergraduate student groans and simply curls up into a ball in response. “Jeno. I’m serious. You need to go home and sleep.”

“I fucked up plating a transformation last night before I left and I realized it when I was tucked into bed, so I sprinted back here to replate them so they could incubate overnight and be ready late morning so Dongyoung doesn’t want to  _ murder me _ .”

Taeyong shakes his head tiredly and takes off his jacket before tucking it under Jeno’s head. “He won’t murder you, Jeno. I’ll explain to him when he gets in. When’s your first class?”

“It’s at ten,” he mumbles into the blanket.

“Okay. I’ll wake you up, okay? Go back to sleep. Oh - wait.” Taeyong couches down to Jeno’s head and rummages through his bag, pulling out his noise-canceling headphones. Turning them on, he places them over Jeno’s head. “Sleep a little more. I’ll wake you up before you need to go to class.”

“Thanks, Taeyong. You’re the greatest.”

Reaching down, he smooths down Jeno’s hair until the student pulls the blanket back up over his eyes. Zipping his backpack up again, he decides that he should have a conversation with Dongyoung about the expectations he had set for Jeno.

His morning is, overall, peaceful, and when nine-thirty rolls around, he pauses what he’s doing to take a break and wake Jeno up. When he does, he sees Dongyoung and Jeno sitting side-by-side on the couch, eating breakfast together. Before either of them can notice him, he backtracks and returns to work.

He says nothing when Dongyoung finally walks in, he says nothing when Dongyoung places his headphones and jacket on his desk, and he  _ definitely _ says nothing when Dongyoung says his name. Taeyoung pretends to be engrossed in updating his lab notebook, meticulously taping images in and writing unnecessarily detailed captions for each one.

The silence can only last for so long, however, as Dongyoung slams down his pipette when Taeyong closes his lab notebook. He is hunched over, scowling at him under the shelving that separates the two sides of the bench. Taeyong offers him a sheepish grin before tucking the notebook in his drawer.

“Lee Taeyong. I know you’re ignoring me.”

“What do you mean? I’m  _ always _ ignoring you.”

“This is different.”

“ _ No _ , it’s not.”

“ _ Yes _ , it is.”

“No.”

“ _ Yes _ .”

“No.”

“ _ Yes _ .”

“N -”

“Just tell him you know he wants you to  _ fuck him _ , for  _ fuck’s sake _ ,” hisses Yuta at them as he walks by. Taeyong feels the blood drain from his face as Yuta walks away. Physically  _ feels  _ his capillaries constrict and blood flow slow to a trickle as he stares at the space where Yuta once stood. He hopes that the floor opens beneath him and swallows him whole. Or, even better, it crumbles and he falls the four floors to an early end.

Anything would be less painful than what just happened.

“... I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So, on the  _ lab bench _ -”

“Don’t wanna talk about it!”

Taeyong is saved from further humiliation as Jeno bursts through the door and waves his exam in the air. He’s jumping around and Taeyong hopes he doesn’t knock anything over as he shouts in joy. Dongyoung closes his mouth while the sharp look he sends Taeyong lets him know the conversation isn’t over. Taeyong wonders how fast he can run.

“I got a  _ ninety-eight _ on my physical chemistry exam!”

“On a  _ pchem _ exam? Holy fuck. Right on,” says Taeyong, eyes wide.

“ _ Anyways _ , Donghyuck’s practice is canceled for the afternoon, so I was hoping I could take it off to go out and celebrate with him?”

Taeyong pales as Dongyoung smiles. “Of course you can.”

“Thank you! I’ll make up for it this weekend!” Before either of them can say anything else, Jeno sprints out the door and Dongyoung’s attention is pinned back on him.

“Why don’t we take the afternoon off, as well? The weather outside is quite nice. A walk through campus sounds good, don’t you think?”

Though Dongyoung’s voice leaves no room for argument, Taeyong decides to try anyways as he’s handed his jacket. “Aren’t you - I - you’re defending at the end of May, aren’t you? It’s - you know, it’s March, shouldn’t you - I don’t know, not be taking time off - hey, Dongyoung, I can walk myself, you don’t need to push, you know, I -”

“Please stop talking and just walk with me.”

“Can we just pretend that Saturday night  _ didn’t _ happen?”

“No.”

“... Damn.”

“Did you  _ really _ think I would say yes?” Dongyoung raises an eyebrow as he looks at Taeyong, who acquiesces, shoulders dropping. “I thought so.” They walk in silence out of the building and past waves of students that travel from building to building for classes. Eventually they end up in the city and Taeyong sighs. “Perhaps we should get drinks. You seem to be more honest when you have some alcohol.”

“Fuck, and I  _ cannot _ emphasize this enough, me.” Taeyong hides his face in his hands they walk, accepting his fate.

Dongyoung laughs and Taeyong hates the way it makes him feel. “You already said that to me once.”

“ _ Not like that! _ ”

There’s a prolonged silence that makes Taeyong nervous. He nervously peers over at Dongyoung, who glances at him with an amused smile. “By the way… not on the lab bench, but I can kick Yuta out this weekend if you’d like.”

“I -  _ what?! _ ”

 

 

 

 

They don’t talk about  _ The Walk _ for the rest of the week. Despite that, everyone in the lab space can sense that something has changed. Yuta tries to pry it out of Taeyong when he walks over to help Minhyung with his Western blots on that Wednesday. Taeyong pointedly ignores Yuta’s stares as he leans against the bench.

“Yuta says that you’ve done Western blots before?” asks Taeyong with a smile.

“Plenty! I worked on bacterial protein expression in undergrad,” he explains. His energy and excitement is infectious as he explains, in more detail than necessary, how he utilized CRISPR to modify protein expression in _Pseudomonas syringae_ to study the ice nucleation proteins. Taeyong is impressed by the first year graduate student, comforting him when he becomes embarrassed, realizing how long he’s rambled for.

“It’s fine. I enjoy seeing people excited about their research - please don’t be embarrassed. For this run, do you want to run a PAGE or SDS-PAGE?”

“SDS-PAGE. I’m just trying to verify that the protein is there based on approximate molecular weight for today.”

“Do you know where your antibodies are for the actual blotting? And, what kind of marker did you choose for your second antibody?”

“HRP. It was the cheapest. And we already had it.”

“Smart,” says Taeyong with a laugh. “Are your samples prepared to run through the gel?”

Minhyung pats the bucket of ice on the counter and nods. “Got ‘em right here.”

“Awesome. I actually think we have some sterile agar you can heat up to pour in the back room. Jeno did an SDS-PAGE Western for Dongyoung last week.” Minhyung follows Taeyong into the back room, nodding as he shows him where all the equipment is. “I trust you’re competent enough to properly heat up the agar and pour it?”

“I like to think I can  _ at least _ do that.” Taeyong and Minhyung laugh as he pats him on the back. Excusing himself, Taeyong saunters over to Yuta, who perks up as he approaches.

“I’m not here to answer any of your weirdly probing questions about my personal life. I’m here to tell you to remember to order your lab SDS and polyacrylamide. You’re all free to use our molds and everything - I’m just more concerned about Minhyung having enough to make as many gels as he’s going to need.”

“Got it.” Yuta writes it down on a post-it note before slapping it onto the shelving. “That said -”

“I’m not telling you anything. You’re Dongyoung’s roommate. If he didn’t say anything, then I won’t.”

“ _ Ugh _ . Neither of you are  _ any fun _ ,” groans Yuta, slouching in his seat. “ _ Fine _ . I’ll go back to assembling these contigs.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes, peering over Yuta’s shoulder at the windows open on his desktop. His laptop sits off to the side, iTunes open to a playlist of classical music. “Those contigs are  _ huge _ . How’s the coverage?”

“Really good. Over 1000x on average.”

“Well, shit. That’s incredible. Your DNA isolation must’ve gone well, then?”

“Overall, yeah, but there was some contamination. My sterilization of the leaves wasn’t perfect. See this contig here?” Yuta points at a contig of around five million basepairs and Taeyong nods. “I’m pretty sure this is  _ E. coli _ contamination. The genome size is about right and Jeno  _ did _ accidentally spill some of Dongyoung’s bacteria onto my samples.”

“...  _ How _ ?”

“The boy’s clumsy. Hard-working. He didn’t mean to - I’m not angry. I can parse through and eliminate it, so I don’t mind. But, I’m pretty sure that’s where it came from.”

“He is hardworking. He’s taking a gap year before applying to graduate programs, though.”

“Oh? Why?” asks Yuta, leaning against his desk.

“I think he just wants to make sure he knows what he wants to do. You can’t blame him. Getting your PhD is a huge commitment - you should know. Plus, I would hate to see him burn out… Remember how we’d all come in over the summer and Jeno would pop out from under the bench? He needs to realize that  _ isn’t _ the expectation for a graduate student. A gap year will be good for that.”

“Agreed. Minhyung worries me a little, to be honest. I think he comes in earlier than me and leaves much later. I hope this doesn’t become a habit.”

“Well, he’s only a first year, isn’t he? That means he’s still taking a lot of required courses. Maybe it’s just because he’s working around them and it’ll change.”

“Taeyong! The gel is dry!”

“Speak of the devil,” says Yuta with a good-natured laugh. “Thanks again for helping him, Taeyong.”

“Not a problem.”

“And be kind to Dongyoung. He really likes you, you know.”

Yuta’s words echo in Taeyong’s mind as he walks Minhyung through the gel setup and loading. The graduate student is attentive despite having done this many more times than Taeyong. Spending time with Minhyung helps him push it all to the back of his mind, the two talking easily.

Minhyung is a bright man with a bright future, Taeyong decides, as they image his blot at the end of the day. The fronts are crisp and Taeyong feels jealous - even his best Western blots weren’t this beautiful. He hopes that this isn’t what  _ always _ happens - a first-run-fluke - and that all of Minhyung’s blots will look this nice.

He whoops loudly in the imaging room as he looks at his printed image. “Wow… Wow! I can’t wait to tape this into my lab notebook. Thanks for spending the day with me, Taeyong. I didn’t mean to pull you away from your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” asks Taeyong, logging out of the computer. He picks up the photo as Minhyung collects his gel to dispose of it.

“Well, yeah. Isn’t Dongyoung your boyfriend?”

“What?  _ Oh _ , oh  _ no _ . He’s not!”

“Really?” Minhyung’s brow furrows as he shakes his head. “Jeno said he saw you two out on a date the other day! He was out on a date with Donghyuck and saw you both in the park!”

“No, not a date.”

“Well… I’m sorry to pull you away from a person that makes you happy.”

Taeyong feels his face heat up as he bites his lip to stop from smiling. He likes the sound of that - Dongyoung is, despite everything, a person that makes him happy. “It’s okay. It’s more important for me to help you, a budding graduate student, anyways. Dongyoung can handle himself.”

 

 

 

 

Taeyong  _ hates _ it. Hates how natural it feels to wake up, Dongyoung curled up around him. It feels too good to be true, really. He never thought a drunk confession would lead to…  _ this _ . Slow mornings and breakfast in bed and quiet affirmations of love he never thought he would receive from  _ Kim Dongyoung _ of all people. It wasn’t fast, though. It took time - months that Taeyong didn’t think they had in the first place.

He had accepted it. That, after Dongyoung defended his dissertation and graduated with his PhD, he would go off to be a post-doc in some well-known lab far, far away Taeyong was so sure of it that he never thought to  _ ask _ Dongyoung where he was going. He knows  _ now _ that communication was  _ probably _ the better option, but at the time he didn’t know what they were - if it was appropriate to ask.

Dongyoung walking into lab the day after his dissertation defense and introducing himself as the new post-doc in the lab had made it easier for Taeyong to tell him he wanted Dongyoung to ask him on a  _ real _ date and that, as nice as dinner and a good fuck was, he’d like to go on a  _ real _ date and get to introduce him to his sister as his  _ boyfriend _ . Across the lab, Yuta had whooped and Minhyung pretended to not exist as Dongyoung hit his head on the shelving.

They went on a date that night. Dongyoung brought a bouquet of twenty-four roses and Taeyong decided that evening that whatever they had, have, will have, and whatever they were, are, will be, is worth it.

Dongyoung shifts until he’s facing Taeyong, smile familiar and gentle. It prompts Taeyoung to curl further into his side as he presses a soft kiss, barely there, to his forehead. A soft giggle escapes his lips as he closes his eyes again, choosing to simply bask in Dongyoung’s presence.

“Morning, baby.”

“I don’t want to get up,” mutters Taeyong into his shoulder. Dongyoung’s body shakes as he laughs in response. “ _ Really _ . I don’t want to get up.”

“How did Youngho deal with you for so many years?”

Fingers combing through his hair pulls him closer to sleep until Dongyoung is shifting to sit up. “ _ No _ ,” he whines softly, clinging to Dongyoung’s waist. “Don’t move.”

“Come  _ on _ . We’re throwing your little party today.”

“I didn’t want it,” mutters Taeyong, eventually releasing his grip on Dongyoung. 

“Revealing where you’ve chosen to go to graduate school is a pretty big deal, you know. My parents threw a  _ huge  _ party.” Dongyoung slips a t-shirt and sweatpants on as he pulls open his blinds. “You should be excited. I didn’t think you’d be able to keep it a secret, you know. You tend to say  _ everything _ when you’re drunk.”

Taeyong pushes himself up and catches the shirt that Dongyoung throws him, slipping it on before reaching over the edge of the bed for his shorts. Once dressed, he patters after Dongyoung who starts to make coffee. The smell of the caffeinated drink stirs Yuta, who bursts out of his room with a loud,  _ Good fuckin’ morning ladies! _

“Morning, Yuta.” Taeyong yawns behind a hand, losing his balance as Yuta throws an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m excited to hear where you decided to go!”

“Everyone is,” teases Taeyong, shaking his head. “You’re not the only one. Youngho has been pestering me about it for  _ ages _ now. Says it’s his best friend privileges.”

“... You caved, didn’t you?”

“No! … Yes.”

“Wait,  _ Youngho _ knows, and I don’t?” asks Dongyoung, whipping around with the coffee pot in hand.

“He and Yoonoh sat on me until I told them.” Taeyong grimaces at the memory, shaking his head. 

“... Yuta.”

“On it.”

“No! You’ll both hear in an  _ hour _ ,” says Taeyong, scampering to put the kitchen table between him and the two roommates who eye him, unamused. “Plus, he would’ve just asked my parents if I didn’t tell him!”

“I still need to work on being on a first name basis with your parents. It bothers me that they love Youngho more than me,” grumbles Dongyoung, going back to making coffee.

“That’s what happens when you’re best friends for twenty-four years,” retorts Taeyong.

The rest of the morning passes rather quietly, the three of them re-emerging in outfits acceptable to leave the apartment in - “I think wearing just my boxers is a  _ perfectly _ acceptable outfit!” “Yuta, just  _ put on pants. _ ” - before packing into Dongyoung’s car and driving to Taeyong’s  _ actual _ apartment. Ten opens the door before Taeyong can get the key in the lock, throwing his arms around him and pulling him, immediately talking about how Kun is ready to Facetime in.

Jeno and Donghyuck wave from the couch where Minhyung is perched on the arm. Yoonoh’s head pops out of the kitchen as he grins, calling out Taeyong’s name. Youngho’s head appears shortly after before he barrels out of the kitchen, picking his best friend up with a joyous shout.

Everyone keeps him busy as they chat excitedly with him. As he walks by the kitchen table, he eyes the five acceptance emails Youngho had printed out, pasting a large version of their logo onto each email. The universities are all spread out across the country - the three universities in the area are among the five. The other two are far - prestigious, but paired with the daunting addition of a big move.

His sister had been, as always, instrumental in the whole decision making process. His mind had nearly imploded with the task of deciding where to go. Youngho and Yoonoh had been no help, hinting that he should remain in the area. Dongyoung had said nothing and Yuta ranted for  _ three hours _ about how they’re in a great area for professional development. Ten had simply said it was his decision, but he’d be sad without him around.

“This is  _ your _ future we’re talking about, Yongie,” his sister had said over the phone. The baby cried in the background and he listened to the sounds of his sister asking her husband to take care of it. “You know? You may be comfortable and, if that’s what you want, then you know what to do. But, if you want to take the leap, you should take the leap, too. These people will be in your life if they’re meant to be. Do what’s best for you.”

He shuffles around the papers noncommittally without realizing what he was doing. The party still goes on around him as he ponders the next steps of his life. The deadline to accept a program’s offer looms over his head but he feels at peace. He had gone through so much to get where he is today - he thinks that he deserves some sort of comfort. From who, he’s not yet sure.

“Oh? Are you ready to tell us? Hold on! I need to get Kun on Facetime!” shouts Ten, gathering everyone’s attention. Taeyong makes them all turn around while he reaches for the acceptance letter. 

The future is his.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You know the rules,” he says with a smile as he stands on his toes. “No one from outside the lab in our work space.”

“Well, maybe you can make an exception for your boyfriend?”

Taeyong kisses Dongyoung’s cheek gently, suppressing a giggle as he turns back to his transformation. “Maybe.”

Moving across the country had been scary - uncertainty after uncertainty after uncertainty. Finding an apartment on his own, meeting new people on his own. Youngho had always been there and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t. And, at the start of something new, Taeyong had packed up and left. Everything scared him - the past, the present, and mostly the future. There was no guarantee for anything.

If he had been with anyone else, he thinks that maybe things would’ve ended and the present would’ve been different. But, as Dongyoung presses a kiss to his temple and says he’ll see him back home for dinner, Taeyong realizes that the future was only scary because he let it be.

“I love you,” Taeyong says over his shoulder before Dongyoung leaves.

“I love you, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> **glossary**
> 
>  
> 
>  _PCR_ : polymerase chain reaction; a process to increase the amount of DNA.  
>  _transformed bacteria_ : adding foreign DNA to a bacterial cell  
>  _cultures_ : media that had a single colony (spot) of bacteria added before being incubated overnight  
>  _termocycler_ : changes temperature in a controlled manner  
>  _Taq polymerase_ : thermostable DNA polymerase (replicates DNA)  
>  _RFLP_ : Restriction Fragment Length Polymorphism; allows for unique patterns in DNA to be identified  
>  _wrapped cycle_ : an autoclave cycle to sterilize lab equipment. wet cycles are for media and waste.  
>  _Western Blot_ : used to detect and analyze proteins  
>  _TriTrack DNA Loading Dye_ : the three dyes vary in size; used to tell where the front is so you can stop your gel on time :) because if you don't :) say good bye to results  
>  _ladders_ : molecular weight/basepair standards used for comparison when analyzing your gels  
>  _CRISPR_ : gene-editing system  
>  _SDS-PAGE_ : polyacrylamide gel electrophoresis (PAGE); sodium dodecyl sulfate (SDS); SDS-PAGE unravels the protein and lets you exam the weight of the protein accurately.  
>  _HRP_ : horseradish peroxidase; used for imaging the bands  
>  _contig_ : set of overlapping DNA segments that together represent a consensus region of DNA.  
>  _coverage_ : average number of reads spanning each given base position  
>  
> 
> \---
> 
>  
> 
>  **actual authors notes**  
>  title from taeyong's intro rap in yestoday (extended version).  
> thank you for reading 11k words of selfish prose.  
> the more i wrote this, the more i poured my own experiences into it. this is filled with the futures that my friends and i hoped for and the realities that we face. i hope that you can find someone to relate to. it only took me roughly two and a half days to crank this out, working on it around my time as a full-time phd student. i tried to work my way around some things to prevent becoming too technical, but if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask.  
> much love to the loveliest friend, [lin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostSoulSister/profile), for beta reading this for me so i could make sure i had all the jargon defined at the end.  
> find me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/nsofties)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/nsofties)


End file.
